


Teen

by rudbeckia



Series: Random Worlds [16]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 02:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11958210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: AU where Ben|Kylo is a singer trying to establish his band, Armitage is a bartender (and aspiring mixologist), and Snoke runs a music promotion agency.Ben's band has a spot at talent night at the oldEmpireballroom, now a nightclub. Hux is working the bar and Snoke is there to find new acts for his agency.(Eh, go readViperinstead, it's more fun.)





	Teen

The barman yelled above the noise at the kid in front of him. “Over twenty-ones only. You look about seventeen!” The kid tucked a stray curl behind his ear and pulled his face into a scowl that made him look even younger. The barman laughed and held out his palm. “Come on, ID.”  
With a theatrical eye-roll, the boy searched the pockets of his spray-on jeans and handed over his drivers licence. The barman scrutinised it for photo, name and date of birth, then handed it back with a nod and a sneer.  
“Is that your real name? What can I get you, _Kylo Ren?”_  
“Diet coke,” mouthed Ben, glaring and pointing at the dispenser while holding up seven fingers.

 

Ben carried his tray of drinks backstage, pulling the thin, red velour curtain aside and squeezing past a hulking figure who muttered thanks and took one of the plastic cups from Ben’s tray. Ben set the tray down on the floor and sipped from a cup, making a face. One of the black-clad backing singers clapped Ben on the shoulder and held on.  
“Hey, can’t you at least let _us_ have something stronger before a gig?”  
“Yeah right,” laughed Ben. “Remember that gig at _The Alderaan_ where the drummer of _The Death Stars_ totally lost his rhythm and the whole gig blew up in a fight? The _Knights of Ren_ can wait until they get off stage before getting wasted.”  
“But have you seen this place?” the other backing singer called over from her perch on a narrow step, struggling into heavy black boots. “I mean, it’s not exactly our usual crowd. Is my makeup okay?”  
Ben nodded and peered out at the clientele from behind the curtain for a couple of seconds then faced his band. “The fact that there’s a cute redhead behind the bar wearing green glitter body paint instead of some bulging biker-type makes no difference. Our music will speak for us.”

 

There were two acts before Ben and his band took the stage. The first was a nervous looking man singing mournful country and telling everyone between songs that his latest CD was available at the bar. The green-spangled bartender held up a CD case every time the singer mentioned it and, when he finished his short set, had a colourful cocktail waiting for him. Ben got the feeling from the singer’s early start and abrupt finish that he was not supposed to be performing at all.

The second act was a tall blonde who looked and sounded like she’d missed her exit for Broadway and decided to sing at the classiest looking bar in the wrong town. Her silver and red sequinned dress dazzled and her height, supplemented by four inch chrome stiletto sandals, meant she towered over Ben as she prowled backstage.

The Knights needed a few minutes to set up. Ben peered out through the curtain and saw that the country singer was mixing cocktails behind the bar. Ben pulled his lips into a line and sighed when he couldn’t find the redhead who’d challenged him earlier. A tap on his shoulder made him jump. He turned to see the cute bartender holding a glass of some pale yellow drink garnished with lime. It glowed slightly.  
“For you. On the house.”  
“I can’t,” replied Ben, although his hand found the glass anyway and he brushed the barman’s fingers.  
“I made it just for you. If you like it and you’re good,” he jerked his head towards the stage, “I might call it the _Kylo Ren._ ” Ben shook his head. The barman persisted, “Oh come on, make me feel better. I’m trying to apologise for being an arsehole about your ID.” The barman looked away then straight into Ben’s eyes and Ben saw the green shimmer reflected in his irises. “Tell you what,” the barman said with a shrug. “I’ve got no cause to mock someone else. My name’s Armitage.”

Ben sniffed the drink and took a tentative sip. He pulled a face as the bitter taste shrank his tongue. He coughed and handed the glass back. “I’m glad I don’t drink before I perform! Don’t worry about the ID thing. It happens a lot, _Armitage._ And you can call me Ben. Kylo is my stage name.”  
“I’ll mix you something else,” said Armitage, his hand pulling on Ben’s elbow. “I’m sure I can make something as sweet as you. Wait here — I’ll introduce you.”  
Armitage pushed past Ben, shimmied upstage and introduced _Here’s a treat to shake us all up! Please welcome Kylo and the Knights of Ren!_ The band took position to a smattering of applause.

 

The bar was almost empty and the lights were turned up high enough to indicate that the establishment was closing and show the dirt. Ben ignored the too-bright tackiness of _The Empire_ nightclub that the lights revealed. He slumped at the bar, face in his hands.

“It was a disaster!” wailed Ben. Armitage shook his head and tried to pull one of Ben’s hands away from his face. Ben peered out through his fingers at Armitage.  
“No it wasn’t,” consoled Armitage as he wiped down the bar and set a glass in front of Ben, plopping a brown sugar swizzler into the clear beige drink. “Those idiots only want to hear songs they know, played so quiet they can ignore it and get on with their conversations. Muzak lovers. Have you tried your _Kylo Ren_ yet? I think you’ll like the new recipe.” Ben took a sip. The sweet drink warmed his mouth with flavours of spice: ginger and _something,_ yet it felt smooth on his tongue. He smiled and Armitage smiled back. “See? I invented a new cocktail so the night is not a complete disaster.”  
“For you, maybe. More than half the audience walked out.” Ben took another sip of his custom-mixed drink and wondered how strong it was. He took out the swizzler and sucked it. “That counts as a disaster for me.”  
Armitage tore his eyes away from Ben’s mouth, still working on the sugar crystals, and glanced up across the old ballroom. He tapped Ben’s arm. Ben looked up. Armitage leaned forward and murmured, _”Don’t look behind you now but mister Snoke didn’t walk out and he’s coming over.”_  
Ben discarded the sugar and grabbed Hux’s hand. _”Snoke? The agent? He’s here? Fuck!”_

A dry, wheezy voice came from behind Ben.  
“Ah! Hux. It’s after hours so this must be a private party. May I join?”  
Armitage snapped to attention and smiled. He made up another _Kylo Ren,_ putting on a show of mixing it and tasting it before straining it into a chilled glass and garnishing it with a curl of lime zest instead of sugar. He placed the glass on a serviette and took a step back. The seat beside Ben’s moved out seemingly of its own accord and a man sat down. Ben turned his head, meaning to steal a quick glance at the mysterious Mister Snoke, but he stared. Snoke wasn’t simply old, he appeared aged beyond belief. Ben’s eyes flicked over the deep crevasse of a scar that ran across the man’s bald head and down his forehead, his pinprick deep-set eyes that seemed to suck in light, and the thin mouth that gashed across his face and opened to reveal a scattering of discoloured tombstone teeth.

None of those features were unexpected. What caught Ben’s attention was not the supreme ugliness of the agent, but his clothing. Snoke wore a glittering gold lamé smoking jacket over matching slacks. Ben suppressed a snigger and held out his hand.  
“Hi. I’m Ben Solo, lead singer with _Kylo and the—“_  
“Yes, yes you are!” Snoke cut in with a dismissive wave. “You show great promise but you have much to learn about the music industry. I can teach you.”

Ben’s heart thumped in his chest and his head spun. His mouth dried and he took a gulp of his drink. Sweet fire scorched his tongue and he gasped. “Are you saying… are you offering… what?”  
Snoke swivelled to face Ben and grasped Ben’s shoulder to turn him so they faced one another, knee to knee. Snoke leaned forwards, looming in Ben’s field of view. Ben stared into those black pinpricks.  
“I am offering you and your _knights_ the chance to join _First Order._ You are amateurs so you will have a punishing schedule of training and practice, and your initial contract will reflect the effort I am putting in to your development. But I promise you the rewards will be everything you deserve.” Snoke sipped his drink and dabbed yellowed, gnarled fingers at a dribble that escaped his lips. “You have until I finish this drink to decide. I have already persuaded the delightful Miss Phasma to join me.” Snoke took another sip and hummed in appreciation. “One of yours, Hux? I think I want you as my new executive bar manager. Can I persuade you to leave your place behind the bar of _The Empire_ and manage a chain of more modern establishments?”

Ben recovered his senses a little. “I should ask the rest of the band.”  
“That is unnecessary,” replied Snoke. “They will follow where you lead and if they do not they can be replaced with other _knights_ whose loyalty is not in question.”  
“So this offer is for me and the band too?” Snoke nodded and held up his glass. There was one mouthful left. Ben stuck out his right hand and smiled. “In that case I accept.”

Behind Ben, Armitage quietly said, “Me too.”  
“Excellent!” Snoke stood, nodded his acknowledgement to Armitage and put his arm around Ben’s shoulders. “You will be Kylo Ren from now on. Drop _Ben._ Someone will come for you tomorrow.”

Snoke shuffled out. Armitage held the door for him and Ben heard the solid _thunk_ of an expensive car door. Armitage returned and cleared away the remaining gasses.  
“Looks like we both got a break. I’ve been looking for a way to establish better standards and consistency in the mixology industry for a while and Snoke has the power to take over all the shitty little places that call themselves cocktail bars but only serve pre-mixed margaritas. And with his backing, you’ll be able to tour your band properly. I bet, in three years, there won’t be a big-name festival without _Knights of Ren_ headlining. Want to celebrate at my place?”

Ben laughed, buzzed with alcohol, high on hope and flattery. He beckoned Armitage closer, leaned across the bar and kissed his pink-glossed lips. Ben grinned. “Wanna know a secret? By the time I’m famous I’ll be old enough to drink my namesake cocktails legally. I gave you my fake ID. You were right - I’m seventeen.”


End file.
